


The Witch Is Dead

by lilian_ariana



Category: Berlin Station (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: S02E06 The Right Hook, Episode: S02E07 Right and Wrong, Episode: S02E08 The Righteous One, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilian_ariana/pseuds/lilian_ariana
Summary: Four different perspectives on select events from episodes 2.06-2.08





	1. The Man on the Rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> The actual summary, because spoilers:  
> Hector's intention to shoot Katerina Gerhardt is hampered by his fucked up psyche throwing various manifestations of his subconscious at him who try to talk him out of it at the last second. April agonizes over her choices and where one draws the line between right and wrong as she bears witness. Lena is hellbent on revenge, muses about her unlikely mentor, and is apprehended and interrogated by the BfV. Augustus wonders how the hell he got caught up in all this and where it's all going to lead.
> 
> I wasn't going to write anything Season 2 related before I've seen all of it, because the writers do love to throw you a curveball, but Hector's been in my head since last week insisting on talking about what happened on the rooftop and then it all spiralled a little out of control from there... I'm at best medium-happy with how this turned out, but oh well, here goes.

_Hector_

 

It's part conviction, part sheer stubbornness prompted by April's question that made him decide to see this through. Besides, he hates leaving unfinished business, so here he is up on the rooftop, preparing to finish what he started. Just briefly, he'd toyed with the idea of reviving Thomas Shaw to expose Katerina and the State Department's involvement in this whole fucked up mess, but in the end, he does believe what he told Daniel: Maybe a bullet _is_ the better bet.

 

He's in position, target in his sights, finger on the trigger, when the only thought that could possibly make him hesitate crosses his mind:

What would Clare say if she could see him now?

_"Just shoot this cunt already, will you?!"_ rings through his head, one of the very last things he heard her say. But he knows it's not the same thing. This... she would hate what he's become, what he's on the verge of doing. 

 

_"Damn right I would!"_ , her voice says in his head, and he can see her in his mind's eye clear as day, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him fiercely, fire and fury in her eyes. Of course she'd pick now of all times to make an appearance. It's been a while since he's heard her this clearly, not since he'd finally decided to lay off the booze back in Spain. But alas, here she is, fucking with his concentration. He shakes his head in irritation, trying to get rid of her and regain his focus.  _"And since when does THAT ever work?"_ , the inimitable Shirley Pimple drawls in his mind and lays a perfectly manicured hand on ghost-Clare's shoulder, leaning in. 

 

Christ, but his subconscious is fucked up.

 

"Come on..."

 

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, readjusts his sights. He's come this far, he might as well go through with it. After all, he'll be doing the world a favour.

 

Crosshairs on the target... steady your breath...

 

_"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!"_ Clare again. She never did like to be ignored. And oh look, Julian's decided to join the party too, because just his alter ego isn't enough. It's a fucking circus riding around in his head.  _"You're not a bad person, Hector"_ , Julian says, and he wants to shout  _Have you fucking met me?!_ , but arguing with his ghosts just tends to make him feel even more unhinged. Then Faisal, who unlike the others was alive and well when Hector last saw him, but whose voice joins the ghostly whispers in his mind nonetheless, brushes a gentle incorporeal hand down his arm.  _"This is not who you are."_

 

Except maybe it is. He's got a job to do, damn it, but he feels himself wavering. There's still a part of him left that wants to believe them.

 

_Let's just get this over with._

 

One more time.

 

Crosshairs on the target... steady your breath...

 

Fuck it, his hands are trembling. A relapsed alcoholic does not a good sniper make. Or maybe it's his little subconscious entourage getting to him after all.

 

_"What are you even trying to accomplish?"_ , Clare asks, her tone softening.  _"This is a terrible idea, you DO know that..."_ , Shirley adds, and the same voice with Julian's inflection continues " _You don't have to do this."_

 

_"You can still walk away"_ , Faisal suggests, and Clare echoes him more forcefully:  _"Walk away, Hector. Do it now, before it's too late."_

 

_"Walk away."_

_"Step away from the edge before you fall."_

_"Once this is done, it can never be undone."_

_"Don't cross this line. Turn around and walk away."_

 

"Ah, fuck...", he mutters through clenched teeth.

They're right. This is wrong, even for him. _Walk away._

 

He still thinks the world would be a better place without Katerina Gerhardt and all her vitriol in it, but he will not be the one to make it happen. Turns out he isn't yet that far gone. A fog seems to have lifted from his mind, and if he's quite honest (a rarity perhaps, but he does have his moments), it scares him a little just how close he came.

 

He gets up on his knees and prepares to disassemble the rifle when a flash of movement catches his eye. There, on the hotel rooftop Lena had eyed for their sniper's nest. He brings up the rifle, looks through the scope.

 

 _Son of a bitch..._ Seems like he wasn't the only one with a bullet with Katerina's name on it.

 

He snaps a picture and is about to take the guy out when he remembers he'd just decided he wasn't killing anyone today and this fucker isn't worth getting in another mental argument over. He readjusts his aim. All of a sudden, his hands are steady as a fucking rock, because his subconscious really isn't being subtle today, and he hits the guy's hand precisely as planned.

 

That should do the trick. He doublechecks, just to be sure, and _FUCK_. He did not see that one coming. The screaming starts almost before he can process what just happened. Pointing the scope back at the stage, he sees what belatedly occurs to him was always going to be this day's outcome with or without his involvement: Katerina Gerhardt is down, a pool of blood spreading beneath her crumpled form, mass panic sets in as people rush from the scene and armed police officers frantically scan the surroundings.

 

Oh well. What's done is done. He's a little annoyed at himself for not stopping the shooter, but he's hardly going to shed any tears over his target. His selfpreservation instinct kicks in and he shakes himself out of his stupor, takes apart the rifle with well practiced moves and packs up his shit. No time to lose, he can't afford to be seen up here.

 

_Huh_ , supplies the part of his brain that is in charge of providing cynical commentary meanwhile,  _Well, isn't this awfully convenient. Ding Dong, the witch is dead (well, mostly dead anyway), he didn't have to get his hands this particular kind of dirty after all, and to top it off, he's just acquired a shiny new piece of leverage to throw at the agency that isn't Lena Ganz, which should come in quite handy considering that the conscience he prefers to pretend he doesn't have has started to argue with his mercenary instincts about turning her over a little over the past day or two._

 

This, he increasingly comes to think, is an outcome he can live with, far better than if he'd actually pulled the trigger. One might even go so far as to call it a win-win situation.

 

Now... Time to get the fuck off this roof.

 


	2. The Witness on the Ground

_April_

 

She has been fighting a battle with herself ever since she first listened in to Hector and Lena and realized what they were planning. How do you know what is the right thing to do when every option seems wrong? Everything in her rebels against the thought of this kind of vigilante justice, killing an unarmed woman in cold blood. Everything in her rebels against the thought of not doing anything to stop someone who would kill hundreds of innocents to gain a bigger platform from which to perpetuate hate and discrimination. Right and wrong used to seem so clearly cut, but suddenly it's all a haze and she's in way, way over her head.

 

Every single choice she made today she agonized over and does so still, turning them over and over in her head, asking herself if she should have chosen differently, never getting any closer to a decisive answer. She chose not to report them. She chose to help them get away at the train station. She chose, as Hector pointed out, to first tacitly, then openly endorse what they were doing. She chose to ditch the recordings to cover her and their tracks. She chooses, still, to say nothing. Is she choosing wrong?

 

She wishes Valerie had picked up her phone. She knows she has a tendency to just barge right in and follow her first impulse instead of listening to her more experienced colleagues' advice, but right now she'd give anything for someone to take the decision out of her hand and tell her what to do. It's just that doing _nothing_ seems wrong, too. How does anyone navigate this maze?

 

When she gets to the Messe, she's filled with dread. Is Hector up there somewhere, ready to go through with it, or has he chosen to back out? She doesn't know him well enough to predict his actions. He doesn't strike her as someone who'd leave unfinished business, but _has_ he truly made this his business or is he more likely to decide it's not his problem now that Lena's pulled out? He certainly seems to have mastered the subtle art of not giving a fuck about laws or morals or much of anything else, but does that mean he'll pull the trigger or does it mean he won't?

 

Valerie shakes her out of her gloomy thoughts and self-doubt, finally offering her thoughts and perspective that April needed long before now. Is it too little too late?

 

"You never know if you're headed in the right direction", Valerie says, "you just have to trust your gut, trust your instinct... And then you just hope that the path you're on is what you can live with. You know?"

 

She does. Suddenly, now, when it might already be too late to change anything... she does.

 

Dread mingles with despair as she pushes her way to the front of the crowd, her phone at her ear in a last ditch attempt to call Hector off, but he's not picking up. Nor would he, if he's busy somewhere on a rooftop lining up a shot. She leaves a message, but there's barely any point. All she can do now is wait and watch as events play out that have already been set into motion... with her help.

 

She keeps looking around, but she can't spot him. If he's there, he's chosen his position well, and she won't see him from here.

 

She flinches as the fireworks go off, pivoting back to look at the stage and register the false alarm as the almost unbearable tension inside her keeps mounting, before continuing to eye the surroundings.

 

When it finally happens, just for a split second she feels a flash of relief because the waiting, the uncertainty, is finally over. Everything else is shock. While the crowd around her screams and panics, starting to rush every which way, she just stands and stares, as numbness spreads through her replacing the anxiety that came before. She's never watched anyone die before. She didn't think there'd be that much blood. Perhaps she didn't think at all.

 

Valerie catches her eye, pulling her back into the present.

 

_What have I done... ?_

 

She runs with everyone else, because there's nothing else to be done.

 

If this is her fault...

 

_Is it? Is it my fault?_

 

... she doesn't know if she'll be able to live with it.

 


	3. The Apprentice Assassin

_Lena_

 

She's never really been on her own, always had Papa to rely on. Now that he's gone and she is really, truly, all alone, she's paralyzed – by grief, by fear, by uncertainty, by being entirely at a loss as to what to do, where to go, what's even the point of anything now. She just lies there on the bed, watching them all drag her Papa's name through the mud on TV, and lets her hate for Katerina Gerhardt mount. But there's nothing she can do.

 

Then _he_ comes back and gives her a direction. She doesn't want to go with him, doesn't know why she should, he's one of them, one of the people who got her Papa killed, but there's nothing and noone else coming to help her and at least with him she knows where she stands. She resents him and the way he orders her around, but he doesn't try to play nice or pretend to comfort her or any such shit, and that helps, at least a little. He's not a nice guy, he's just using her for his own ends, but at least he's upfront about it. No more lies and false niceties, just blunt, hard facts, and she chooses to follow him because it's the only choice she has.

 

The first time she says she wants Katerina to die, she hasn't thought any further than that. The desire is hazy, but it's there. She just hasn't figured out how she could accomplish it yet. He doesn't take her seriously, and she doesn't either, not really, not at first. She pushes the thought aside and sinks back into mournful silence.

 

Then he drops her off with his weird, eccentric friend, the kind of... _person_... her Papa would roll over in his not yet existant grave to see her associate with in even the slightest of ways, like she's just another piece of luggage or a package waiting to be picked up and her resentment mounts times infinity. He goes on his way to fuck knows where and just _leaves_ her there, like he expects her to be grateful and stay put like a good little girl to be his hostage, and with nothing else to do she can't stop seeing her Papa die, his voice suddenly cut off by the most devastating kind of silence, playing over and over in her head. The longer she mulls it all over, the more all her grief and anger and vague vengeful contemplations crystallize into an all-encompassing need for _real, serious revenge_ , the bloodier the better. Somebody truly needs to _die_ to avenge her Papa's death. Not him, not Hector – and how strange it is to think of him by that name when she's spent all this time despising him with the name Andrew Chevalier attached – or Daniel-Trevor, although she _hates_ the way he wormed his way into her confidence to use and betray her, but _her_ , the wicked witch herself, Katerina fucking Gerhardt, the woman whose fault it was above all others. She needs to pay for what she's done, and Lena will make her.

 

She doesn't plan much further than that, operating entirely on autopilot as she cracks her effeminate jailer over the head with the first thing she can reach when he tries to stop her leaving, grabs the money satchel (it's Papa's money anyway, it's only right that she should take it to pay for her retribution), and runs off to track down an arms dealer her Papa once mentioned considering doing business with. She knows better than to use his name now that it's being smeared all over the news, but Hector's comes out almost automatically. He seems like the kind of dangerous, shady character whose name might serve as a feasible form of introduction in a place like this. In retrospect, she should have known better. Fucking CIA.

 

Still, it's after Hector tracks her down at the gun dealer's that she starts to see him differently, when despite seeming initially still scornful of her thoughts of revenge he deigns to impart actually useful information instead of just telling her how _wrong_ and _immoral_ and _pointless_ trying to kill Katerina Gerhardt is. There is, she's almost sure, a certain amount of understanding in the way he looks at her as she lays out the motivation gnawing at her. At that moment, she starts to see an opportunity rather than an obstacle. As much as she wants to do this on her own, show the world what _she_ , Lena Ganz, is capable of, the tiny bit of rationality not yet smothered by red-hot anger tells her she can't do it alone – this ill thought out attempt to procure a gun, and then it turns out to be _the wrong kind_ , proves that quite thoroughly. She needs help. She needs someone who knows about these things, who knows weapons and how to use them, has the resources to get them, the knowhow to concoct a proper plan, the experience to teach her, and who has no qualms about killing. She needs someone like Hector DeJean, who, the more she thinks about it on the way back to their temporary refuge, seems more like what she wanted Trevor to be than _Daniel_ possibly could. She only met _Daniel_ without the Trevor mask for a scant few minutes while out of her mind with anger and grief, but she saw enough to know that much. _Daniel_ only pretended to be a hardened, coldblooded killer while playing a role – Hector actually is. The way he killed Armando tells her so, as does the way he casually points out her chosen weapon's shortcomings for assassination purposes, and above all the darkness lurking behind his eyes. He's a dangerous man, but that doesn't scare her. She's been around dangerous men all her life. To get what she wants, she will need his help. Now all she has to do is convince him to give it.

 

It turns out to be easier than she thought. He's the one who brings it up, sounding contemplative rather than dismissive, actually taking her seriously and giving her the perfect opening to make her plea. When he agrees, for the first time it feels like she has a chance to accomplish what she's driven to do.

 

He's efficient and pragmatic once he takes her under his wing, and she eagerly latches on to his guidance as they walk past the Messe, scoping out the area to choose the perfect spot. _This is where Papa died, don't look at it, don't think about it – no, DO think about it, keep it firmly fixed in your mind, this is why you're doing this, this is why she needs to die._ She follows him and soaks up all he tells her, every tiny bit of advice she can use.

 

A disguise is necessary, she knows that, but she feels like a fool nonetheless when she is told to sit in front of a mirror, has a ridiculous wig perched on her head, and Augustus (whom she still despises because all Papa taught her tells her she should, but whose ministrations she grudgingly submits to at Hector's insistence) paints her like a fucking picture, like she's one of those silly girls on magazine covers rather than Lena Ganz, daughter of Otto, who really doesn't give a shit about having fifty kinds of paint in her face. Eventually her patience runs thin and she snaps. Somehow, Hector calms the firestorm inside her with but a few sentences. She doesn't know how or why, but in some way, she's beginning to believe in him, to believe that he really does understand and will get her to her goal.

 

When he takes her to buy a rifle, a _proper_ one that's actually suited for what they're planning, she feels herself smile a little for the first time since Papa died. _This_ is what she needs, and it takes her another small step closer towards avenging him. Once they have the gun, he teaches her how to use it, taking her to practice until she can hit her target with every shot. Trying out the M4 with Trevor-Daniel was thrilling, but this is deadly serious, and she pays more attention to this than to any other lesson in her life. She likes that he doesn't treat her like a child, at least most of the time. Like she's inexperienced and naive, sure, and though she'd never admit it the longer she spends with him the more she knows he's _right_ , but he shows her what she needs to know. To Papa, she always remained his precious little girl who had to be protected, so he would often keep her in the dark, tell her not to worry and to trust him, to stay safely on the sidelines out of harm's way. Now, she needs to learn to do things for herself that Papa never wanted her to, but Papa is gone, and she's doing it for him. So she asks her questions, listens, and learns.

 

As she follows him up to the rooftop and he unerringly leads her to the perfect spot, she feels suddenly apprehensive. Can she really do this...? She denies having second thoughts when he asks, but now that she's up here, looking down and it's all becoming more and more real, she's no longer so sure she has what it takes. Does she? His phone buzzing is a welcome interruption. If she only stops thinking so much, she'll be fine.

 

She hasn't actually given a single thought to what will happen after she gets her revenge, it's been the only thing she's been able to focus on – she no longer thinks he will necessarily turn her over, especially not after this, but apart from that... when he says "our" exit strategy, part of her is glad. Perhaps she wouldn't mind sticking with him for a little longer, at least until he teaches her how to survive on her own as a fugitive, how to get away, stay under the radar, become someone else. She can't imagine it, but that too, she'll have to learn. And this is another thing she refuses to admit: She's afraid of being left all alone. Of course, that's when he tells her to sit tight as he takes off without her.

 

She despises being told to stay behind and wait, so she follows him to the station, but she can't spot him anywhere in the crowd. He spots her, though, and the message is clear. Out of the corner of her eye, she can already see them closing in as she tries to find the nearest exit. April comes out of nowhere, taking her off guard. But she invokes Hector's name, and despite her instinctive reluctance it's enough to make Lena follow her as they elude her pursuers and make their way out. The second they're out of the station, however, Lena stops and attacks.

 

A good offense is the best defense, Papa taught her, and the more threatened and pushed into a corner she feels, the more offensive she gets. The nastiness is almost a reflex, and she has an endless repertoire of slurs and insults picked up at Papa's knee to spew at any target that comes too close. April is not impressed, and in a way, Lena grudgingly respects that. Lacking any better alternative, she lets April take her home.

 

As soon as she sees him, she moves to Hector's side, not even bothering to question the instinct. Then the revelations come, and she edges away, backing closer and closer to the exit the more she hears.

 

Is he still working with _them_ after all?

She never trusted him, not really – she made that mistake with "Trevor", and she'll never, ever make it again (Always be cautious, never let down your guard, Papa taught her... he must be so disappointed in her right now.) - but nevertheless she feels betrayed.

 

She runs out into the street with no idea what to do, wandering aimlessly while anger and hurt and confusion swirl in her mind. She has no home, no money, noone to turn to and nowhere to go.

 

Without even consciously realizing it, she lets her steps carry her to the only door that might open for her and it galls her that _this_ is her only option as she knocks and waits. Augustus cracks the door open and peers out, eyeing her disdainfully as she stands there without a word. She refuses to beg. When he steps aside with a sigh to let her in she doesn't say thank you, but a measure of relief seeps into her nonetheless. In fact, when he closes the door behind them and stands quietly watching her, an unusually silent colourful figure in that ridiculously flamboyant robe he wears in his home, she is so pathetically grateful to have been permitted inside that she doesn't even snap an insult at him as she usually would. She pretends she doesn't see the hint of pity in his eyes and stomps over to the couch, tossing herself into it like it's her right and crossing her arms over her chest, rebuilding her shattered defenses.

 

They don't say a single word to each other all afternoon, eyeing each other warily like a couple of strange cats while mostly pretending the other isn't there. Her accepting a mug of coffee from his hand is the closest they get to an open declaration of a cessation of hostilities.

 

When the election results start coming in they turn on the TV, and even the helpless rage that spikes inside her every time someone mentions Katerina Gerhardt's name is muted by the depressing sense of defeat weighing on her. How will she avenge Papa now? How will she live with herself now that she has failed in this all-important task she set herself? There she is now, the fucking bitch, strutting onto the stage that Lena should right at this moment be viewing through the scope of a rifle, delivering her victory speech. And then... She sits bolt upright, stares in disbelief that gradually gives way to elation as a stunned reporter tries to describe what just happened and they replay the decisive moment while jabbering on about first responders rushing to the scene and an unknown attacker – _not_ unknown, not to her, she thinks with a sense of fierce vindication of her abandoned belief in him, he did it after all! "Thank you", she whispers like he could hear her, "thank you." She doesn't see the mask of horror on Augustus's face as he too realizes just how what they're watching relates to why Hector hasn't come home.

 

Elation morphs into quiet satisfaction as they continue to watch, neither moving from their seats. The insistent knocks on the door startle them both. Augustus opens it cautiously, and she can hear April's voice from the doorway. "Let her in", Lena tells him, and so he does. She balks when April insists that she come with her right now. Strange as it seems, she feels safe here, and she wants to wait for Hector to get back. But what if April is right, if they'll track her here and come for her, and the longer she stays the more dangerous it'll be? Reluctantly she follows, though she can't help but feel that a major transit hub is the _last_ place she should be, Hector told her not to use public transport, surely they'll be looking for her in places like this or spot her on camera, and anyway, where will she go? She has barely any cash, she can't use her credit card or her real ID and she has no alternative, has April really thought this through? Does she have _any_ idea what she's doing? She should have waited for Hector, he'd have had a better plan... April almost drags her down the steps to the platform, and how will she use the trains if she can't even afford a ticket, and _fuck_ , they're already here, they're everywhere, how is she supposed to _remain calm_?! But she's trying, putting on a brave face as best she knows how and back up an escalator they go, but it's not working and April wants her to just _walk right past them_? Fuck that, her fight or flight instinct screams and she bolts. She makes it a whole ten meters before they grab her at the top of the stairs, slamming her up against the ticket machine as they restrain her, arms behind her back, and she curses and struggles to no avail as they march her off.

 

The place they take her to doesn't look like a police station, just a bland, nondescript building with sparsely furnished rooms and the guard in the suit standing at attention like she'd be stupid enough to try to make a getaway _now_ practically screams BfV. "Never trust the BfV. If they catch you, whatever they tell you, whatever they offer you, don't believe them, they'll just screw you over anyway.", Hector warned her. She'll follow his advice. He shot Katerina Gerhardt, and for that if nothing else, she'll follow his advice and give them nothing. They won't get a word out of her. Don't let anyone intimidate you, Papa taught her, and she'll follow _his_ advice too. She'll make them both proud of her.

 

Except...

 

It takes them only two hours and thirtyfour minutes to wear her down, but Lena doesn't know this. To her, it feels more like two days. They keep badgering and badgering, especially that bitchy, condescending woman who didn't bother to introduce herself and who looks at Lena like she's something to scrape off her oh-so-shiny shoe yet pretends she _understands_ and _wants to help_... Lena doesn't believe a word she says, and she has no intention of giving in. Never show fear, Papa taught her, and she deploys every single weapon in her arsenal to hide hers: Playing dumb, stubborn defiance – _"Ich brauch' niemanden. - I don't need anybody.",_ sullen silence, anger and insults, once, when the woman steps out for a moment and is replaced by her overly polished henchman (the very same one, she notes with a brief spike of savage delight, whom Hector beat up in the truckstop bathroom), she even resorts to fake tears (the real ones will come soon enough, much to her humiliation), but none of it works. They just keep going, the same questions, the same demands, over and over, chipping away at her resistance piece by piece until she finally cracks.

 

_He's not your friend, you owe him nothing, he didn't do it for you_ , she tells herself,  _and they already know anyway, so what does it matter?_ And yet, she knows that it does, and it makes her hate herself a little more to know that they got to her.

 

_"You're not loyal"_ , she'd accused Hector – Chevalier – back at the truckstop, but it's herself she wants to yell it at now, when after all her posturing and denials she whispers his name after all.

 


	4. The Involuntary Accessory

_Augustus_

 

The girl is gone now, spirited away by yet another ladyfriend of Hector's he's never heard of before and will likely never see again. (And does  _everyone_ know where he lives these days?) If pressed, he might admit that, sugarbowl assault aside, she's actually grown on him a tiny bit over these past couple of days... mostly like a fungus. Or a tumor. Or something else chiefly unpleasant. He might even come to miss her a little bit, bless her vicious, bitchy little heart. 

 

But, it slowly starts to dawn on him, he has bigger problems now. Because the next unexpected visitor might very well be some flavour of police or other, come to haul him in for questioning about  _that little political assassination plot that just so happened to be hatched in his living room_ and disappear him to goodness knows where. What on Earth was Hector thinking, getting him – albeit tangentially – involved in this mess? "The less you know the better", he'd said (and wasn't that just bloody typical, him playing the international man of mystery), but it certainly would have been  _nice_ to know from the start if  _someone_ was planning to go around shooting politicians, now wouldn't it? He'd probably be more miffed about it if it had been anyone other than that odious PfD woman, but even so, this is certainly not the kind of thing he ever wanted to be mixed up in. 

 

Oh dear. Best have a drink to calm his nerves, before he works himself up into even more of a panicked frenzy.

 

The TV is still on, providing constant coverage about the life, death and legacy ( _legacy,_ oh  _please_ ) of Katerina Gerhardt. It's a little like watching repeat footage of a car crash, but he can't bring himself to turn it off. New information comes sparingly if at all, just hour after hour of rehashing the same bouts of speculation. Until...

 

_"German police have now named a suspect in connection to the shooting of Katerina Gerhardt, the German PfD leader. He is Hector DeJean, reported to be an American and a former member of the CIA who remains at large. Police are warning that the suspect is armed and should not..."_

 

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no.

This is a terrible nightmare, and Augustus really wants to wake up now. Pretty please with a cherry on top.

 

But all he can do is watch as Hector's name and image is broadcast on every programme, every channel, again and again, followed by hate and condemnation, and a deep fear and despair for his friend grips him and threatens to drown him.

 


End file.
